


Sigh

by OzQueen



Series: babysitters100 [44]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Community: babysitters100, Drabble Collection, Gen, One Shot, Seven Deadly Sins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven baby-sitters. Seven deadly sins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sigh

**Author's Note:**

> I... I don't even know. I had fun with this, though! I've really not made the seven sins ~deadly. They're mostly amusing, I think. I just wanted to assign each attribute/sin to each baby-sitter. Some of them were really easy and spoke for themselves, others were harder, and I'm not sure I'll ever be happy with a couple of the last choices I had to make. They're not in any particular order.  
> Also, I used Open Office for the word counts. According to that program, each drabble is 100 words, but I can't promise it'll read that way in every program (or to every eye). :)  
> The prompt 'sigh' is assigned to the first drabble; it doesn't have much else to do with the others.  
> Thank you _isabelquinn_ for the beta.

* * *

**Sloth**

She's supposed to be up. Shower, dressed, breakfast; all supposed to be done.

She rolls over to look to the window, the curtains parted an inch or two to show a white sky, snow falling silently.

 _I should get up_ , she thinks, imagining the growing chaos of the Christmas sales.

There's a sigh at the end of her bed; a heavy weight on the comforter over her feet. Tigger stretches and curls himself again, purring quietly.

Mary Anne edges one foot under his rumbling belly and lets out a sigh of her own as her toes warm.

 _Another five minutes_.

* * *

**Wrath**

Dawn looks nervously over her shoulder as there's a creak on the stairs. She holds her breath, listening for tell-tale footsteps.

 _Stupid farmhouse_ , she thinks. _Stupid ghosts_.

She waits a bit longer, just to be sure. It's not unlike Jeff to sneak up and leap out at the last second to make her jump.

She grits her teeth in renewed determination and pulls the top drawer open; carefully opens the pouch of itching powder and scatters it through Jeff's clothes.

She smirks as she slides the drawer closed again.

_Won't be so easy to sneak up on me now, Jeffrey._

* * *

**Gluttony**

Janine is tutting over punctuation errors and spelling mistakes as she scans her menu, but Claudia tunes her out as she flips to the page of desserts.

Lemon curd tart, tiramisu, chocolate cake with dark ganache, parfait, home-made vanilla bean panna cotta and summer berries...

"Claudia?" Janine is watching her critically, eyebrow raised.

"Um, I haven't decided yet." Slowly, she turns back to the mains, but it doesn't help with hastening her decision.

Slow-roasted pork belly with caramelised onions, pepper-steak stir fry with buttered greens, chicken cordon bleu, creamy mushroom carbonara...

 _This is going to take some time_.

* * *

**Envy**

Mallory has thrown her bedsheets back and is at the window, chin propped in her hand as she looks out over the shadowy yard.

It's not late – not even ten o'clock. If she were thirteen she could still be out _baby-sitting_ right now. She knows that's where Stacey is; it's why her bedroom is still dark. Because Mrs McGill trusts Stacey and treats her like an adult.

Mallory huffs so loudly Vanessa rolls over in her sleep.

The moment Mallory turns thirteen, she's going to dye her hair, buy a whole new wardrobe, and insist upon a later curfew.

* * *

**Greed**

There has to be grace in absolutely everything, _everything_ , even curtain calls and curtseys and the way she embraces the heavy bouquets of flowers after every performance.

This is what they watch – not just the dancing, but the little things, and if Jessi wants more of it (and she does), she can't stop performing until she's alone.

The little things are what keep her leaps and bounds, _tour jetés_ and _pirouettes_ in front of the others. She will step on every single one of them to stay ahead, to be Swanilda, Giselle, Odette, Nikiya.

She will not have less.

* * *

**Pride**

"The Bashers have older kids on their team, but the Krushers were here first," Kristy says, kicking the fridge door closed, the milk balanced in the crook of her arm as she juggles a bowl and a box of Cheerios. "Besides, my baby-sitting experience with kids gives us an edge the Bashers just don't have."

"Kristy, the milk," Sam says irritably, holding his hand out.

"Have you _seen_ Jackie Rodowsky's swing lately?" Kristy clatters her bowl onto the counter. "My direction is totally paying off."

"The _milk_ ," Sam groans, ignoring her. "I'm _hungry_."

* * *

**Lust**

Stacey angles the compact mirror she keeps in her purse, pressing her lips together to ensure even distribution of her favourite pink gloss.

Any minute now, basketball practice is going to finish. The team will emerge from the school gym red-faced and still damp from the showers.

A shiver goes up her spine as she snaps her compact closed.

RJ Blaser, Marty Bukowski, Malik Jaffrey, Robert Brewster...

She keeps a hawk eye on the gym doors. The moment they fly open, the boys jostling out into the parking lot, Stacey fluffs her hair and starts walking, timing it just so.


End file.
